The Dead Don't Sing
by Grease Monkey Girl
Summary: Newly Edited and re-published. Changes reflect an up-to-date Gleeverse! Summary: For George Lass, high school was bad enough the first go around. Now she has to do it again, and join a glee club. Crazy adventures ensue, yada yada, you get the picture.
1. The Dead Don't Sing

**A/N: ** And here it is! I have re-edited and republished most of the chapters in this story. Currently, it should now be up to date with Glee end of season 2. The Dead Like Me universe is somewhere between the 2nd season and the film. I refuse to believe the events of the film ever happened or that Daisy looks any less-Daisy like than she should. Anyway, please read and review if you like. I've missed you all!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Glee. Don't own Dead Like Me. Wish I did. Not making money. Don't sue me, please!

**Prologue: **

_You can't go home again. But, you CAN go back to high school_

It was a bright, sunny day in Ohio. The birds were singing, the smog was rising, and the regulars were out and about enjoying their morning coffee and breakfast at Der Wafflehause. Among the patron, a rather eclectic group of four individuals had been sitting around talking for the past half hour- well, grumbling was more like it.

Tiffani didn't ask questions. She knew they were a strange lot, but the older one, Rube, always tipped well and the waitress had been doing this job enough years to know better than to ask too many questions. She just took the orders, poured the coffee, and occasionally tried to engage them in safe, run of the mill cliche conversation when the group seemed in a good mood.

This was not a good mood day. This wasn't even a reasonable mood day. The youngest of the group, George, was slumped over on the far side of the booth, glaring angrily at a slip of yellow paper in her hand, her face nothing less than a scowl. Across from her, Rube was already halfway through his pecan pie, seeming to pay no mind to his colleague's disposition as he enjoyed his unusual breakfast.

"Whoa, wait a second- I'm going _where_?" Tiffani caught the girl grumbling as she walked over to pour the perky blond another cup of coffee, while trying to avoid the man sitting in a chair pulled up at the far end of the table. Mason seemed to be a nice enough young man, but he wasn't exactly trustworthy around her pockets. On more than one occasion she'd nearly chased him out of the restaurant after catching him nearly hijacking a tip or two from another table.

"William McKinley High School- Thank you Tiffani" Rube had lifted his coffee cup for the waitress to fill, giving her a warm smile which was returned in kind. "You start Monday."

_High school? Wasn't this girl a little old to be in high school? _No. She wasn't gonna ask. She just did her job and moved on. A warm smile, and the waitress was walking away, doing her best to ignore the conversation from the group in the booth. She knew better than to get too curious about stuff like this. It only led to trouble.

"Ugh. It was bad enough the first time!" George Lass grumbled, somehow managing to slump farther into her booth and glaring over as Daisy picked at her fruit cup beside her. When she was sure that the waitress was far enough away, she continued to whine. "Why do I actually have to _go_ to high school just to do a reap?"

"Because, Peanut", Rube didn't miss a beat, lifting a forkful of pecan pie into his mouth and speaking as he chewed. "If you would actually read your Post-It you would see that this reap happens in the choir room Friday at 3:45PM, and I don't know about where _you_ high school, but it's going to look suspicious if a total stranger just happened to be hanging around class when somebody drops dead, now isn't it?"

Roxy scoffed from beside her boss at his come back, lifting her own coffee to her lips, but making no attempt to hide the smirk on her face. She was getting pretty sick of George's whining too. It was ruining the mood. Almost as much as Mason's attempt to steal her breakfast. The cop's eyes shot over in time to see the freeloader reaching for her sausage- a quick fork near his finger sent the other reaper reeling back and glaring up at her.

"Wotchit! That coulda really hurt!"

"No. Really? Then stay the fuck away from my breakfast."

The other three paid no mind to the exchange. George was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing as she stared at the assignment in her hand, as if somehow she could change the date or location on sheer will alone.

Daisy had stayed quiet long enough. She finished peeling a grape and popped it into her mouth before adding her two cent. "Well, I for one think this is a fabulous opportunity for you to get to socialize with kids your own age, Georgia."

"My own age? I'm going on _twenty._ The only kids at this school who'd be my age would be the ones too stupid to even speak."

"I dunno, Georgie- I was 20 when I finally got outta secondary school." Mason shrugged with a smile.

"My point, exactly." The girl tried to appeal one last time. "Can't I just trade with-?"

"No. You can't. It's settled. I've already called the school principle, classes start at 7:30AM, Monday."

"What about Happy Time?" A-ha! Rube had paused from his pie to look up at her, an eyebrow raised.

"I called your boss. Apparently, you have swine flu. They don't expect you in all week." Rube took another bite. Roxy smirked. Daisy gave a little nod. Mason sniggered.

"Wait a minute, _you_ called? When the fuck were you gonna tell me this?"

"I'm telling you now."

"I don't get sick pay, you know!"

"I'll pay for your breakfast today, how's that?"

"I only ordered TOAST!" She was met with silence. Reaching for her toast, she picked off the edges and muttered in defeat. "…This fucking sucks."

There was no way around it. It was settled. Monday morning, George was going back to school.

_If I wasn't already dead, I'd ask someone to just kill me now._


	2. Who brings Slushies to high school?

**Chapter 1:**

_Who brings Slushies to high school?_

"Millie _Hart? _What the hell kind of a name is that?" George was staring down at her registration card just outside the principal's office at her new high school. Rube joined her earlier for a brief McKinley High. The entire 'orientation' had consisted of an awkwardly edited video featuring Principal Figgins addressing incoming freshman (which would have made sense if 'Millie' wasn't supposed to be a senior) followed by an even more awkward Q&A between the principle, the _new _student, and her 'Uncle Bill'.

"_Welcome to William McKinley High, Miss Hart. I will be your principle for what I hope to be an exciting and wonderful year for you." Well, George had to give the man credit. He'd definitely mastered the 'fake optimism' part of his job. Right down to the creepy smile he gave his newest student who sat across from him, eyebrow raised._

"_Yeah, I gathered that from the video", the girl muttered sinking lower into her seat. Her 'Uncle' was quick to speak up, an almost convincing smile as he leaned forward to drown out 'Millie's' comment._

"_We really do appreciate the quick registration. Millie's had..problems in the past, if you know what I mean."_

"_Of course, I understand. Anything to support a fine, upstanding, and generous family like yourselves." Figgins gave Rube an enthusiastic smile and George was half tempted to ask just how much her boss had donated to the school to get her in, no questions asked._

_Thankfully, she kept quiet. _

_Must be one helluva reap to be paying that kinda loot to get her foot in the door._

"It's your name, peanut, and keep it down. I know you're only here for a week. The less suspicion you raise, the better." He didn't miss a beat, popping jelly beans as the stepped into the main halls of the school, already crowded with students mingling between the classes.

"Oh, right, like me suddenly showing up and leaving a week later isn't going to raise suspicion. " It all felt strangely familiar and foreign to the reaper, all at the same time. The crowds, the mechanical bell, smell of tater tots in the air mixed with the stench of gym socks… No, it wasn't _her_ school, but it was close. Way too close for George's liking.

Maybe she'd gotten her lights and she just didn't remember. Maybe this was her own personal hell, Rube was escorting her into and he just didn't have the heart to tell her.

"You owe me after this one. This crap was bad enough the first time around." The girl muttered as she readjusted the backpack over her shoulder, eying the other students with suspicion and getting politely ignored in return. Okay, that wasn't too bad. They weren't staring back at her. Maybe she could just lay low…just let the week go by, pop the soul, and get outta this dump without anyone being the wiser.

Maybe.

"Don't think of it in those terms, _Millie." _Yup, now Rube was just mocking her. She just knew it by his town and that little smirk on his face. _Son of a-_ "Consider it a fresh start. A chance to go back and be the 'cool' kid- isn't that what people want? A chance to go back? Like in that movie with the blond actress- what's her name? Dana? Dressel?"

"Drew Barrymore, and no, actually, I don't want to go back to this at all", she mumbled as some kid in a letterman's jacket ran into her shoulder, probably on purpose. George glared after him, giving him the best stink eye she could until she saw what he did next. The girl never even saw it coming as she turned away from her locker, smiling one moment...and covered in sticky slushie the next. The reaper stopped and blinked, gaping almost as shocked as the dripping wet girl as the jock high fived one of his buddies and moved on, laughing down the hall. None of the other students seemed to take notice, save for a few who sniggered as the girl quickly made a bee-line straight for the nearest restroom.

Behind her, Rube stared as well, popping another piece of candy. "Huh. That's gotta hurt."

"Yeah- ya think? Shit, what the hell is this? Since when are you allowed to throw _slushies_ around school? When I was their age I couldn't even _bring_ a slushie to school."

_Oh shit, did I just say that? I'm not that old, am I?_

"Times change, Peanut. When you were their age, they were in elementary school." Rube smirked, handing her a notice he'd picked up while she was forced to watch the video- a poorly designed photocopied flyer he'd borrowed from a bulletin board outside the principle's office.

"…Glee Club?" The girl stared at the flyer dryly. " You want _me_ to join Glee Club? You're joking right? I don't even know what glee _is!"_

"Its show choir, kiddo, look it up."

"What's that?"

"You know…singing, dancing- seriously, what did you learn in school?"

"I dunno…how to make spit wads? A couple dozen ways to sleep through math class? How to write reports based on movies based on books?" She made a face at the wording- hell, even the badly copied picture of Justin Timberlake. Really? Who came up with this crap?

"The American Educational system ain't what it used to be. Read the flyer. They're National Champions, so you better start practicing.", Rube sighed and turned to her. "They meet every Tuesday and Thursday at 3:15 in the music room."

"It says they got 12th place. And I don't sing."

"You do now."

"Have you _heard_ me sing?"

"Don't care to." He was already walking away, leaving George standing in the middle of the hallway holding the ugly flyer and glaring after him.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment you know!"

"Have fun, Peanut!"

"…I hate you."

Four years of high school, and George Lass could only remember one vital lesson she'd learned from all of it.

School. Sucked.

Well, for her at least. She just wasn't good at it. Classes. Homework. Extracurricular activities. It was why she hadn't done well in college- why she'd dropped out after one semester. It wasn't that she didn't _try_ (okay, so she didn't really try). She just didn't care.

First period was uneventfully boring. George thought she might just get away with sleeping her way through class- that was, until the English teacher with a lazy eye slammed a ruler on 'Millie's' desk, waking her up and asking her something about Hamlet. George could barely remember the play when she had read it, so she just gave some answer remarking how everybody died.

And was surprised that she seemed to get it almost right.

Of course, she hadn't had a chance to settle back into any sort of nap when she found herself hit in the back of the head with something cold and went. Reaching over quickly, she spun around to glare at the other student who was laughing and putting down the straw, preparing his next spit wad for another unsuspecting student.

Gross! Wonder if the little son of a bitch would be smiling if he knew what I could do to him-

"Ms. Hart, can you tell me the significance of the ghost's appearance in Act 1?"

Ugh.

Second, third, and fourth period didn't go much better. No sleep, more questions, more snickering. And worst of all, _homework_. On her first day of school! Sheesh, she couldn't wait to get out of this dump. But, on the bright side, it was lunch…which, apparently still translated into crappy, cafeteria slop.

George made a face down at the steaming pile of what she guessed was stroganoff, but she couldn't be sure. Great. Well, tomorrow she would remember to bring something- or maybe she could just sneak off campus? Oh, this was ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as the fact she couldn't even find a table she wanted to sit at.

She had been wrong when she told Rube this school was as bad as hers. No, this one was worse. It was like walking into a living stereotype for all the bad things in high school. The clicks were obvious and mean- the jocks, the cheerleaders , band geeks, drama geeks, nerds, and...well, there was a table of such an eclectic group of kids even _she _couldn't tell why they were hanging out together.

To be honest, George had no intention of interacting with any of them. She'd made up her mind early on that she was going to do here exactly what she did at her real high school- stay quiet and unnoticed and hope the day went by quickly.

There was only one table that had less than five kids sitting around it, and it was still occupied, but the reaper figured it was as safe a bet as any. She made her way over with her tray of…whatever it was, and took a seat at the far end, making a face at the goop and picking up her fork to start shifting it around.

Her presence did not go by unnoticed. The five were talking animately- well three of them were. Two of them were just making out. George kind of wondered if those two were even with the group. A boy who was pretty obviously gay or very, very metrosexual was leading the conversation with two female friends.

"Please don't pretend to argue the subtle differences between Armani and Wang with me. You really don't want to go there." He was addressing an African American girl who just rolled her eyes at the subject. On the other side of the fashion-foward boy, a dark haired girl immediately looked over when she realized someone else was sitting down and started watching George.

It was kind of annoying, and 'Millie' was about to get up and go look for a place to eat lunch outside, when the girl suddenly moved closer to ask. "...You're new here, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You're new here. We obviously haven't met. I'm Rachel Berry." George just stared at the girl at first. Her friends apparently had also noticed George and suddenly the reaper realized this was the last table to sit at if you wanted to go unnoticed. Great.

Wait, why did this girl look familiar? It hit her suddenly. It was the same kid that had been 'slushied' that morning in the hall…except, she was now wearing all yellow instead of purple argyle- did she change?

"Did you change?" The question was forward and at first, Rachel looked confused. It was the boy beside her that smirked and rolled his eyes. Oh yes, this girl was _definitely _new.

George wasn't the best with starting conversations or making friends. Not that she intended to make friends, but…she found it odd that the girl would be prepared for something like happened in the hallways. The girl immediately looked back up, looking at George with confusion then looking back down at her clothes.

"Only since this morning…I usually keep a spare change in my locker just in case. I had thought that being a senior AND dating the star quarter back would prevent this, but it appears some things never change..."

_This _girl was dating the star quarterback of the school? The one dressed like a reject from the cast of _Clueless_? Not that George ever watched_ Clueless_...

George just nodded dumbly. "Yeah, I saw you in the hallway this morning when that idiot dumped that drink on you."

"Yes, well, being prepared is just par for the course for a successful future starlet like me."

Say what now?

"Future starlet?"

"...Here we go...", the black girl muttered rolling her eyes. Her gay friend just smiled a little bit and sat back to listen to it all over again. They were used to this speech by now.

"Yes." Rachel smiled, suddenly beaming so much it was starting to scare George a little. Oh shit. She knew that look. "I'm going to be a star someday. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. I'm actually quite famous in the show choir circuit in Lima." That beaming smile and a perfectly manicured hand offered across the table and George hesitated. She suddenly realized where she knew that look from.

Dye that hair blond and add a few years and she would be staring into the face of a Jewish Daisy Adair.

"Millie. Millie Hart…" She shook the girl's hand. She let go of the girl quickly and looked back at her food.

"So…you're in show choir? As in glee club?"

"That would be it. Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel." Behind Rachel, the other boy held out his hand and offered an almost apologetic smile. "And this is Mercedes, Tina, and Mike."

The others nodded. Well, Mercedes did. Tina and Mike were still busy making out. George made a face.

"Uh…huh. Um...pleasure."

So...Rachel was part of glee club. George could already guess she was the diva of the bunch. Well, that was something, right. At least it was a good lead in.

"So you're in glee? I was thinking about joining, actually..."

Rachel's eyes lit up at that. Only for a moment though. She immediately remembered the last time she found talent in school- Sunshine was a new girl, too. "You're a singer?"

"Mostly in the shower. My uncle...thinks I should join extracurricular activities or something..." George was doing her best not to mutter. Or scathe.

"Oh, well that's perfect then! We're always looking for new talent. And as president of McKinley's _award _winning glee club, maybe I can help? What were you planning on auditioning with?"

_Good God, she was the president of that thing? _

"I really don't think you need to-"

"Trust me, she does. It's what gives her a reason to live and breathe- that is when she's coming up for air and away from my step-brother." Kurt deadpanned the comment as Rachel turned to glare at him then quickly looked back at George.

"Just ignore him. I'm going to make YOU my new project." _Oh shit, scary Daisy-look again!_

"...You really don't have to do that."

"I know, that's what makes me so nice!" Rachel all but squealed that part. Kurt just stared then sighed and gave Mercedes a knocking look.

George only had one thought. Rube was definitely going to owe her **big** for this.


	3. You said this was supposed to be easy

**Chapter 2:**

_You said this was supposed to be easy._

_How the __**fuck**_ _did I get talked into this?_

That had been the question haunting George ever since she'd made the fateful move of agreeing to go home with Rachel Berry- who apparently, thought she had a new best friend. Honestly, the girl wasn't too bad when she kept her mouth shut. But, that never seemed to happen.

The brunette had been attached to her at the hip practically since she'd mentioned the word 'glee' at lunch that afternoon- and while they had completely different class schedules, Rachel had managed to catch George on her way to the parking lot at 3:01 that day.

"_Hey..Millie, sorry I just thought you could use these", Rachel had a thin stack of papers in her hand, offering them to a confused looking 'Milly Hart' as they walked side by side down the hall._

"_Uh…thanks? What is this?"_

"_Sheet music! I thought maybe I could help you practice an audition piece if you didn't have anything else to do after school today?" George looked at Rachel like she'd grown another head. Rachel knew that look. All too well. "If you want to, that is. I just thought maybe I could help, being the lead vocalist for the club and all."_

"_I have to know sheet music?"_

"_Yes. How else do you learn songs?"_

"_Usually I just listen to them?" Okay, so the reaper knew squat about being in any kind of singing…anything. She knew this was a bad idea from the get go._

"_Well, I can help teach you if you like. It's really not that hard. I've been reading music since I was six months old."_

_Was that even possible? George snorted. "Well, I'd love to, but I gotta catch a ride with my uncle."_

"_Oh. Okay, maybe I can help tomorrow?" Rachel faked a smile and started to walk away. They'd reached the parking lot and George was standing on the steps of the school, looking around for any sign of Rube's car, but all she saw was a sea of students. No sign of Rube. Rachel had turned to walk in the other direction and George hesitated._

"…_Why do I even fucking bother?" George sighed and suddenly turned in the girls' direction and started to walk quickly to catch up. "Rachel, wait." She called out, coming up beside the younger girl and rolling her eyes. "Look…maybe you can help me a little. He's late, anyway."_

And that's how Toilet Seat Girl found herself standing awkwardly in a bedroom that she was pretty sure was ripped right out of one of those teen movies she hated so much growing up. Lime color walls and musical posters everywhere- the girl liked _Annie_ for Christ's sake! It was slowly dawning on her the reason this kid had no friends.

"I really think we need to start with a basic vocal warm up before we even dive in to something as complex as Andrew Lloyd Webber."

George had picked it only because she remembered seeing the play once when it came to town years ago with her dad. She really liked the part where the chandelier fell and killed a bunch of people on stage. The music was another matter.

"Yeah, can't we just dive in? I mean, I'm new, I don't think I'm gonna pull a muscle singing a few notes."

Rachel looked up from her laptop where she'd been pulling up her karaoke version of 'All I Ask of You', staring at George as if she just started growing another head.

"You don't just 'dive in' to any of this, Millie! Singing a song like this takes years of vocal training and exercise- just to hit the right notes! We'll be lucky if we can get you to do it even a little bit of justice for Mr. S tomorrow when you try out. Now, just do as I do and you'll be fine. Back straight, put your hands on your abdomen like this and breathe deeply- in through your nose and out through your mouth." Rachel had stood up from her desk to stand in front of the other girl, demonstrating the proper breathing exercise when a buzzing interrupted them and George almost let out a breath in sheer relief.

Reaching into her jacket pocket she found her cell phone and frowned at the message. "Oh, you've got to be shitting me."

Usually, such language was not part of Rachel Berry's repertoire and she preferred to never hear it in her house. She frowned and gave George a questioning expression, but the reaper just sighed.

"I gotta go. Something came up at work- I mean, home! Yeah."

_Shit, that was close_.

Rachel didn't look like she was buying it, so George continued. "I…work from home…after school. With my uncle. He um...has a business. At home. I gotta run." She didn't give the other girl time to argue, grabbing her bag and racing out and down the stairs, leaving the diva staring in shock and suspicion.

Something funny was going on with Millie Hart…and Rachel was going to find out what it was.

"What took you so long, peanut?" Rube was waiting outside Rachel's house, leaning on the side of his car with a knowing grin on his face, as if he could read his favorite reaper's mind. George was half-convinced he could.

_Probably some fucked up management perk from the Almighty._

"How the hell did you know I was here?"

"Easy. I followed you. What you _should_ ask is why did I bother." Rube opened the door for George who got into the passenger side with a scowl.

"Fine. Why did you bother?"

A cheery smile and he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a yellow post it and handing it to her.

"Are you fucking with me? I already _have _a reap!" She looked down at the note, glaring.

"Yes, for Friday. This one is for this evening." Rube closed her door and stepped around to get in on the driver's side.

"So you expect me to go to school, join fucking _glee_ club, AND keep reaping souls unnoticed?"

Rube reached forward to start the car and pull away, grinning ahead. "Don't think of it as something negative- think of it as a unique change to prove your multitasking abilities."

"I don't want to prove my multitasking abilities- I don't even think I _can_ multitask- I don't even know what the fuck the word _multitask_ even means!"

"Calm down, Peanut. It's just three more days, you'll be fine."

"Like fuck I will." She scowled down at her next assignment, checking the car's clock and realizing she had just twenty minutes before another soul bought it.

_N. Puckerman_

_Monday, 4:23PM_

_McGuire Street Pub_


	4. This is a really, really bad idea

**Chapter 3**

_This is a really, really bad idea_

The McQuire Street Pub was your typical dingy establishment. A dark little bar, it was a favorite for local deadbeat dads and perverted construction workers. Not exactly the kind of place a girl like Millie Hart would frequent on a school night, but it was exactly the kind of establishment George Lass always found herself stuck in when she had a crappier than usual assignment.

Stepping into the dimly lit bar, her nose immediately scrunched up as she was assaulted with the overwhelming stench of stale cigarette smoke and booze. A couple heads turned to look at the person responsible for letting the light in from the bar, and George just smiled awkwardly and raised her hand to wave.

_At least there's no swordfish above the bar._

"Sorry little lady, 21 and over only." The bartender nodded to a sign behind him. George couldn't help but notice the bald, overly tattooed man was missing a couple teeth up front.

"Uh..yeah, I didn't want a drink. Can I…make a call?" _Good one, George_. She mentally kicked herself for her own stupidity. Really? She couldn't come up with a better reason than that? What teenager _didn't_ have a cell phone these days?

Apparently, the bartender didn't seem too impressed either. He just raised a pierced eyebrow as he continued drying the glass in his hand.

"My car broke down just down the street and I need to call someone."

Still bad, but believable. The bartender considered for a moment, then set the glass down and nodded her over. "Five minutes." He promised, producing an old rotary phone from under the counter and placing it on the bar.

The girl smiled awkwardly in thanks and walked over to have a seat. Shit, now she had to actually call someone. Great. The clock above the large mirror behind the bar told her she still had another 12 minutes to kill (no pun intended). Staring back down at the rotary, she was considering her options when fate intervened.

The bar door opened again, and for the second time that day an underage minor entered the establishment. George didn't like him the second she laid eyes on him. He was a tall boy who was too hot for his own good, sporting a letterman jacket and a _Mohawk. _

_Seriously, who the fuck still wears a Mohawk in 2011?_

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" The barkeep glared at the boy who just grinned and gave the man a nod, sidling up to the bar and finding his seat a couple stools down from George.

"Well, I was gonna tell you that mom still hasn't gotten that check you promised her two months ago, but I think I'll just save it and ask what the heck you think you're doing back in town." Despite the kid's tone, he had a lazy grin as he addressed the older man.

"I sent that check out weeks ago, it's not my fault it got lost in the mail."

"Again?" The kid raised his eyebrow and George couldn't help but notice an eerie (if not creepy) resemblance between him and the older man. She sensed a family conflict here and immediately her reaper instincts kicked in. Disgruntled son and deadbeat dad fighting about money. It sounded about right. She slowly put down the phone and looked between the two men as they seemed to be involved in some kind of glaring stand-off. She wasn't alone.

Of the four other patrons, three were now looking at the arguing father and son due. The fourth was getting up to go to the crapper. Or maybe get the hell out of Dodge, George wasn't quite sure.

"Look, kid, I told you last time we talked that I'm mending my ways. I've got a job, now and I even pay rent-"

"Just not child support."

The bartender rolled his eyes and leaned closer to the Mohawked youth to hiss. "I'm doing the best I can, boy. And your mom makes more than enough for you and the brat!"

The teenager bristled at the term and suddenly, the bartender found the kid's hands on his collar, almost pulling him over the bar as he hissed. "Don't you _ever _refer to her like that again, you got it?"

Clearly, Deadbeat Dad hit a soft spot for his estranged son, but rather than act apologetic or afraid, the older man smirked at his offspring and scoffed. "Or what? You gonna teach me a lesson, _son_? "

This was usually the part of the story where someone did something really stupid, really rash, or both. George preferred to stay away from things when they started to get confrontational. Far, far, away. It was her experience that arguments like these usually ended up violent and messy. And she hadn't brought a poncho today.

Mohawk tensed, but said nothing. The reaper glanced down at her watch; 4:21. She still had two minutes. Usually, this would be about the time she popped the soul. The only problem was she didn't know _which_ one of these guys was N. Puckerman- even if it was one of them!

_Fucking great…_

Well, one way to find out. "Hey, Puckerman!" George almost winced when both men looked over, glaring at the blond as if seeing her for the first time. Mohawk smirked a bit at the surprised look George gave them. She swallowed. "I uh..nevermind."

Not her finest moment. Something caught the corner of her eye and George glanced over in time to catch the graveling disappearing behind the bar and she slowly got up to take a step back as she noticed the older man reaching underneath the counter.

The younger had turned back to the old man, giving him a once over then shaking his head and stepping back. "This is your last chance, or else."

"Or else, what?"

"Or else I tell her you're back in town. And I tell the cops." Mohawk knew he had something when he saw that flash in his father's eyes. He smirked and started to step back toward the door when suddenly, the bartender pulled out a shotgun from behind the counter, aiming it at the boy. Everyone froze, including George. It was one thing to be a Deadbeat Dad, but this was a whole new level of fucked up.

"You wanna say that again, son?" The man smiled behind the weapon and Mohawk stared, clearly ready to piss himself. George knew how this was gonna end, and she wondered if she could discretely move closer to brush past the boy before anything happened.

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet? What else have I got to lose?" George had stepped back, arms raised, pretending to walk toward the door without saying a word when she suddenly saw the gun aimed at her. And she stopped in confusion, her fear turning to irritation.

"Oh, come on! What did I do?" The girl all but rolled her eyes at the Deadbeat who sounded way too calm for the situation.

"Sorry, Missy, but you're not going anywhere until we settle this. I suggest you get down."

Mohawk had had enough, he was glaring at the man. "What's your problem? You gotta bring innocent people into this? What the fuck are you think-!"

Apparently, short fuses ran in the family because the younger had just started to step forward again with a glare on his face when a loud bang rang through the bar. All eyes were on the boy, who stood in shock for a moment before falling forward.

George had guessed wrong.

The body of Deadbeat Dad slumped over the counter, his gun falling with him. It had misfired...and sent the top of his head and most of his brain matter into the shelves and mirror behind him. The reaper barely had time to register what had happened before she heard the sound of someone dry heaving beneath her, and her eyes went down to see Mohawk upchucking on her shoes.

Gross.

A scream ripped through the bar finally as the waitress finally reacted and then everything seemed to move at once. Patrons were rushing out, an old man who'd been sitting at the bar was dialing 911, and George stepped over the vomiting kid to brush a hand on the dead man's…

"What the _fuck!_", the soul beside her stared in shock at himself. She was surprised he could say anything at all. He had a good chunk of his skull missing, including an eye. Then again, you probably didn't need you brain after you're dead, did you? "Fuck..is that..is that me? What the fuck happened?"

This guy was gonna give George a run for her money in the swearing department.

"That's what happens when you threaten your kid with a shotgun, asshole." Really, there were some souls she cared about, and others…well, let's just say George just wanted to see them gone sooner rather than later.

"I wasn't gonna shoot him! My finger wasn't even on the trigger, it just went off." He'd moved closer to bend down by his body, looking into his bloody head. George made a face at the soul's morbid curiosity then looked over at the poor boy, who was now being comforted by the waitress. The poor tough guy was in tears, looking anywhere but at the body. It didn't take a genius to know he had to get out of there. The woman led him out the door and George actually felt sorry for the guy…Mohawk and all.

"This fucking sucks." The words never seemed truer.

George gave a little nod then looked at the disfigured soul, avoiding eye contact and clearing her throat. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."

"Wait..what's that..?" The reaper didn't have time to look over her shoulder. She heard the sound of what sounded like some kind of bad bar music and catcalls, and then, nothing. Looking over her shoulder, the soul was gone and she realized it didn't take him long to move on.

Well, she wasn't the one to judge the afterlife. Far from it. She was actually relieved he'd been that easy to get rid of, he was kind of starting to gross her out. Without another word, George tried to discretely exit the bar, making a face at the puke and brain matter on her shoe and praying she could get out of there before the cops showed up.

No such luck. No sooner had she stepped outside than an ambulance pulled up to the sidewalk along with two cop cars. She noticed Mohawk sitting on the curb, the waitress having her arm around him, the kid staring down at the street and George realized what he'd just been through was probably going to mess him up for a long time. She felt bad for him, even if he did ruin her favorite pair of Chucks.

She longed to just leave him there, to go home, toss her shoes and get a long hot shower. But, for some reason (and against her better judgment), she found herself sitting down beside him on the curb as he stared ahead. The woman looked over at her and offered a small smile, and George tried to smile back, hugging her knees to herself. Eventually, the waitress got up to go talk to the cops and George spoke.

"That um….it wasn't your fault- I mean…he wasn't gonna shoot you. He didn't even have his finger on the trigger."

Okay, wrong thing to say. The boy shot her a look before it turned into a glare. "How the hell do you know?"

"I uh..saw." She looked down again. Jesus, what was wrong with her this week? She kept talking to the wrong kids at the wrong time. _This is exactly why I never wanted to go back to high school._

The kid closed his eyes and muttered. "I wouldn't put it past him to try it…that's why my mom kicked him out in the first place. Cause he was an asshole who used to hit her around." The boy sat up straighter, trying to look tougher than he obviously felt, like he didn't care that he'd just witnessed his father's accidental suicide. Strangely enough, George could relate.

"Yeah, well…nobody's perfect?" That got her a strange look from Mohawk and George smirked a little and looked away again. "I'm just saying maybe it was just his time. Like some fucked up twist of fate. Maybe you just shouldn't spent your life thinking about it..especially if he was such an ass, anyway."

"…I just watched my father fucking blow his brains out and you're saying I shouldn't give a shit about it?"

"Yeah! I mean…no..? I mean…fuck it, never mind." The reaper sighed and pushed herself up, but Mohawk kept watching her as she got to her feet, grabbing her bag from beside her. He seemed to notice for the first time and asked.

"So where do you go to school?"

George had to do a double take to make sure he was talking to her, staring a moment- wait…was he _smirking? _She looked around at the cops, the ambulance workers carrying out the body back, then him. He didn't seem to be paying attention to any of it. And she was about to say she didn't when she realized, technically, she did. "McKinley. William McKinley High…at least, as of today."

The guy's grin only grew wider as he looked over his shoulder then back at George. "You wanna get outta here?"

George was sure that was probably a bad idea. The cops were busy talking to the other bar witnesses and giving the boy some space based on their testimony. No one seemed to notice the two teenagers talking. She looked back at him with a bewildered expression and shook her head.

"I don't think that's such a good idea…"

"Oh, c'mon…you know you want to. I know a place down the street that might even sell us beer if the right guy's working." He actually looked rather proud of that fact in his own, underage, suave way. George was now completely out of her element. She wanted to laugh at the guy, but he'd just watched his father die in front of him. Strangely enough, it reminded her of another reap she'd done almost a couple years ago. That one hadn't ended very well for her, but Daisy had said it was because she expected too much from the guy. This kid was still in high school…then again, so was she. Sort of. Really, what could a drink hurt? She technically had just reaped his father's soul- in a way, she owed him.

And the fact that he was kinda hot didn't hurt either. Even if he DID puke on her.

A slow smile and an small nod. "Fine! You owe me for ruining my favorite shoes, anyway."

The kid looked down at her feet then smirked and gave a nod. Fair enough. He was up and didn't even give the cops a glance as he nodded for her to follow. George did so, sparing the officers only a brief glance before they started down the street.

"So…what's your name?" The kid asked sticking his hands in his jacket pocket as George fell into step beside him.

"Millie Hart. How about you, Mohawk?"

"Noah Puckerman…but, everyone's calls me Puck."


	5. Of Might and Maggots

**Chapter 4**

_Of Might and Maggots_

The next day didn't go any better for Millie Hart.

She thought Monday had been bad enough. High school, glee club, crazy girl, then Mohawk and his dead dad. The night had ended well enough, though. If one could call driving a drunk high schooler home in his old sputtering Chevy truck 'well enough'.

George had followed Mohawk that night only to spend an hour watching him hang outside a gas station trying to score a pack of beer. She told herself she'd stayed because she felt bad for the guy. After all, she _did _reap his father after all. Not that it was her fault the asshole blew himself to kingdom come, but she felt a little bit responsible in a cosmic-universal sort of way for being at the right place at the right time.

_"It's cool...I mean, I wasn't exactly close to the bastard...", 'Puck' had shrugged it off as they stood outside the Quick N Save waiting for someone to feel bad enough for the two teenagers to buy them alcohol. "He left my mom when I was still a kid- my sister wasn't even born yet. And the bum didn't start sending her checks until I was 14 and started threatening him myself."_

_George raised an eyebrow, eyeing the kid at the notion. "You started threatening your father when you were __**fourteen**__?" _

_Puck smirked and held up an arm, flexing for her. "Seriously. Did you check out these guns? I mean, I wasn't this loaded a couple years ago, but I did well enough. And, you saw how scrawny he was! Psh, I'm surprised he could even pick up that double barrel- hey! Here comes one now." _

_The reaper turned her attention to a bearded man in flannel who paid the kids no mind as he started to open the convenient store's glass door. That is, until Puck reached out to hold it for him and got the trucker's attention. "Please, don't worry about it, Sir. My sister and I were just waiting to for our poor mother. See, she's been at the bar all day and we need a ride home to the farm. She gets awfully mad when she doesn't get her fix, you know? And..yeah...least we can do is help our fellow man-"_

_"Spare me." The trucker glared at the boy then the girl, his expression cold. "Look, if you want booze it's gonna cost you. Double the price of the six pack."_

_Puck scowled. "That's robbery!"_

_"You wanna buy it yourself, kid?"_

_"...Fine!" The boy reached into his pocket and produced a twenty, handing it over to the trucker who smirked and tipped his hat, leering a bit at George._

_"Be right back, kids."_

_It amazed the girl how easily that went down, but she didn't question it. _

_Needless to say, she'd spent the rest of her time with Mohawk sitting in an ally nursing a beer while he gulped down the other five...then helping him over to the trashcan where he proceeded to vomit up his what he drank. She'd driven him home that night, patting him awkwardly on the back as he stumbled out of his car, then calling Rube to pick __**her**_ _up from the piece of suburbia he called home._

_To be honest, she was surprised- from the story he told, she'd have thought he'd live in a rundown part of town. Turns out Puck's mother wasn't as bad off as he made it seem...which made George wonder if there were other reasons for Puck's needing the money._

Fuck if she gave a shit about that, though. She had other things to worry about. Like avoiding those guys who walked around with slushies and finding her math class. Seriously, the school was a fucking maze.

She found it, eventually...fifteen minutes _after_ the bell. And, she also found detention. Just another reason to hate her after-life. The rest of the day wouldn't have been so bad. George was quickly remembering how she survived the first time through high school- hiding in the back behind a book while drawing crude pictures of her teachers on her notes or sleeping. Unfortunately, there were no books to sleep behind in her third period.

Gym.

George had always hated gym. She'd managed to skip it most of the time. She'd been on her way to do just that when Principle Figgins just _happened_ to step around the corner. She swore the son of a bitch had radar.

So, here she was, dressed in borrowed gym shorts and a shirt that smelled like thirty-odd years of BO and trying her best to hide in the back of the class...which wasn't very easy when half your class was cheerleaders and the other half consisted of what must have been the most pathetic group in school. Including, of course, Rachel Berry.

The soprano had spotted George almost as soon as she stepped onto the gym floor and the reaper forced a smile and a small wave. Before she knew what was happening, Rachel had attached herself at the hip and a couple of the cheerleaders were already scowling and sniggering. Great.

"I didn't know you had gym with me- this is great! I wanted to go over some material with you before this afternoon's glee club rehearsal. You'll be happy to know I already informed Mr. Schue about your audition-" Rachel blinked and 'Millie' gave a half shrug.

"Great.."

George was almost grateful when, before Rachel could go on, a shrill whistle cut through the chattering conversation, and a rather nasty woman in a tracksuit glared at them all. Hands on her hips, George already didn't like her.

Probably because the woman reminded her of her mother.

"We'll talk later." Rachel hissed before turning her attention to the woman. George didn't even get a chance to ask before the blond woman began to speak, her voice nearly as shrill and cold as the whistle.

"Alright you pathetic group of worthless maggots." She was obviously addressing the back of the class- the non cheerleaders looked up almost at attention under the woman's gaze. "And don't complain that I call you maggots- because I spoke with the maggots and they've already complained to me for comparing you to them. Give me twenty- and no whining you sad bunch of gutless wretches. It's bad enough I have to watch your sad attempts to make some sort of physical movement today across my immaculate gym floor. I swear, if any of you let a drop of your smelly, degrading sweat _touch_ our freshly polished mahogany, I will personally make each and every one of you spend the better part of your afternoon in here with nothing but a toothbrush and a bottle of Pledge. Is that clear?"

Murmured acknowledgements were heard and the teacher made a face then blew her whistle again. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

Instantly, the group around Millie began to run around the gym, the reaper hesitating just a moment as she digested what just happened. She'd heard of pathetic gym teachers, but this was a whole other level. Trailing beside Rachel, she rolled her eyes and muttered. "Geeze, who put a stick up her ass?"

Rachel hesitated to answer, first making sure the coach wasn't looking their way before whispering in a low voice. "That's Ms. Sylvester...she's the Cheerio's coach- well, former coach."

Cheerleaders. George always knew there was a reason she didn't like them. Well, besides the attitudes and the short skirts and the jumping.

"Cheerios, huh? She's pretty bitch for a fucking _cheer_ coach, isn't she?"

Rachel's frown only deepened at the use of profanity. No, she didn't like Coach Sylvester, either, but that didn't mean she approved of the use of such language in school. Still, the younger girl explained as she jogged beside George. "She's not that bad. Sometimes. She doesn't exactly coach them anymore. The Cheerios used to be the national champions. Sue- I mean, Coach Sylvester hates anything that gets in the way of her cheerleaders or her championships."

George could think of a thing or two to say about that as her eyes met the older woman's across the room. And for an instant, she felt her blood run cold. Something about the way the two looked at one another…that cool, icy stare. Yeah, George had felt that before. There was a silent hint of acknowledgement there, one she'd felt before. When she first got hit with that toilet seat and found her world turned upside down and all sorts of fucked up.

It was what she felt when she first met Rube. And Mason. And Betty.

Something wasn't right about this Coach Sylvester bitch, and it went way beyond the way she held that megaphone way too close to that student's ear. No, Sylvester was no ordinary cheer coach.

She was a reaper.


	6. Confrontations at Der Wafflehaus

**Chapter 5**

_Confrontations at Der Wafflehaus_

George had barely ducked away from Rachel long enough to change, she didn't even bother with the shower. She had to get Rube on the phone. Now! She didn't like the fact there was another reaper in the school- especially one like Sue. She contemplated ditching for the rest of the day- lunch was after gym and it wouldn't be that hard to duck out.

She was sure that Sue knew exactly who and what she was, and it was only a matter of time before the other woman started asking questions. And that time came sooner than George expected as she stepped out of the locker room and turned the corner to run right into an intimidating red jump suit and a pair of cold steely eyes.

"Hart! My office. Now."

"But, I-"

"Now." Clearly, she didn't take no for an answer. Ever. George looked nervous for once and looked around. The halls were already filled with students heading to lunch. Damn it. She scowled and followed the woman into her office, the door shutting behind her as the other reaper crossed over to stand behind her desk and took a seat. Her head cocked to the side, she eyed George as if sizing her up then smiled. It was an eerie cool smile that almost reminded George of the same grin Roxy would give Mason right before she threatened his man hood.

No wonder the son of a bitch wet himself.

"So….Rube sent you, did he?" The question was so matter of fact, it took George completely by surprise.

"_You _know Rube?"

"Course I do! We go way back. Sit down! Make yourself at home. Protein bar?" Sylvester was reaching into her top desk drawer as George dropped her bag and awkwardly took a seat across from her.

"Uh, no..thanks."

"Alrighty then. I personally don't eat solid foods. I used to keep them around for when my weaker Cheerios pass out and need roughage. Of course, then I'd make them drink a cleanser for the next three or four days to work it back out of their system- but they never fell down again after that."

"That's pretty fucked up." She actually smirked though as Sue's smile fell and the woman got serious.

"You gotta do what it takes to get the prize, don't you Millie? I trained my Cheerios hard and teach them what it means to win. You illegally impersonate a high school student and try to talk up my students to convince them you are one of them so they don't notice when you start popping souls. Isn't that right?"

George didn't say anything. That was pretty much the plan. She looked away awkwardly, avoiding that cold stare. How the hell was it that the girl could face death and be level headed with it (sort of), but she couldn't face down this goddamn cheer coach without squirming.

Sylvester didn't need to waste time. She already knew her answer. Leaning on her elbows across the desk, she looked George dead in the eye as soon as the girl dared glance her way again. And as much as she wanted to, the other reaper couldn't look away from that cold, calm glance. So..she just glared.

"What the hell do you want from me?"

And there it was. That 'easy' smile as Sue spoke her mind. "I want to help."

"You really screwed the pooch on this one, Peanut."

"How the hell is this my fault? You're the one that told me to impersonate a student in the first place."

"I should've known this was one of your not-so-brilliant plans. Tell me…if he told you to jump off a bridge in a burning car with a leaches stuck to your unmentionable regions…would you do it?"

George glared at Sylvester who'd not-so-politely taken the passenger's seat beside the head reaper when he came to pick her up from school for lunch. George got stuck sitting in the back. She fucking hated the back. She didn't even remember _how_ the other woman had talked herself into coming along to have a little 'meet and greet' with the rest of the team. Rube seemed as disconcerted with Sue's presence as George, but it was clear from the get go the two knew one another.

Sitting back, her arms crossed over her chest in near defeat she directed her questions toward Rube, pointedly ignoring the coach to her right.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Nope. Not this time." Rube was gripping the steering wheel hard. He was pissed. Not that George cared. After all, this was all because of his dumb plan in the first place.

When they walked into Der Wafflehaus, the reaper didn't say a word as he headed toward their usual table. Mason and Daisy were already there, the latter sitting across from the Brit as she read over the newspaper and picked at her fruit bowl. The Brit was biting his nails and watching the window nervously before he saw the others approach. His eyes went wide, almost bugging out of his head and he nearly fell out of the booth.

"Oh shit, what is she doing here?" Mason had a distinctly more panicked voice than usual as he squirmed in his seat, tensing up at the sight of the overtly tall reaper who approached them with Rube. It was clear from the way the man was staring at the other woman they _too_ had a past. A dark, twisted past that George did not want to ever know about. It was starting to piss her off that everyone knew about Sue, but her.

"Hey there Ringo! I see your still as unwashed and mentally challenged as ever."

On second thought, George was starting to like this Coach Sylvester more and more.

"Sue here has offered her services in George's reap." Though Rube didn't seem too thrilled at the idea, he directed his glare toward George who put on her best 'What the Fuck?' look as the cheer coach slid into the booth beside Mason. In return, the other reaper scooted farther into the corner to avoid her. Yes. Something was definitely wrong there.

Daisy finally bothered to look up from her funny pages…and she smiled. Brightly. Too brightly. They'd walked into the fucking Twilight Zone. That was the only explanation for all this.

"Why as I live and breathe! If it isn't Miss Dorothy Dangle! How have you been?"

"Wait, _you_ know her too?" George was left the only one standing as Rube slid into the seat beside Daisy, waving over the waitress to order a coffee and some pie. Slack jawed, the youngest of the group watched as the two 'reconnected'.

"Well, you know…saving the world one slow acting tumor at a time. Between my internationally acclaimed cheerleading team and the constant bombardment of media attention, it really has been _exhausting_ doing my job and keeping it all under wraps- but what can I say? A talent like mine can't go wasted away."

"Okay, will someone please explain to me what the fuck is going on?" George looked tired. And pissed. Which was an understatement of the century.

"Yes, _Rube, _explain." Mason snarkily asked, sitting up a bit until Sue dared look in his direction. He quickly shrank back into his corner.

"Allow me to 'break it down' for you, as you kids so inelegantly put it. Back in the good ol' days, I used to be a part of this 'motley crew'", Sue smiled a bit at Mason who had at least managed to sit up.

"Yeah, until she nearly killed us!"

"Relax, reapers don't die. You know that."

"Yeah, but they do _burn. _And it hurts!"

Rube was the first to raise his hand, calming the ranting Englishman down before he could say too much. George just looked at Daisy who was rolling her eyes, and Sue who was smirking at…something. The younger girl didn't even want to know what was going through the woman's head just then. "Okay, enough of that. The past is past- 'Sue' here was moved on to another department a few years ago after she expressed her desire to 'settle down'."

"Turns out the Lima school district frowns on hiring educators who have a tendency to run out in the middle of class in order to do pop a soul! Who knew?" Sylvester grinned. "But, that doesn't mean I don't like to get down in the trenches from time to time- which is where you come in Millie."

"George."

"Whatever. You see, I've been missing the more action packed gore factory that this job entails and I figured your arrival at McKinley was as close to divine intervention as I've ever seen."

"You don't think dying and becoming a fucking grim reaper is a sign of 'divine intervention'?" George was finding Sue's smile creepier and creepier. She only realized when she cast Daisy a sideway glance the two had a lot more in common than their hair. It was something in the eyes. Something cold and devious. Great.

"I prefer to think of it like winning the lottery. God is for losers."

_Touche._

Rube smiled as he received his coffee, taking a sip then reaching for the sugar. "So….you were saying you had a way to get George in and out without being noticed?"

"Sure I do. I have that school wrapped around my little finger like how Gary Coleman has Fox News."

"Didn't that guy just die a few months back?"

Sue's smile fell as she glared at George. "That's just what the little bastard _wants_ you to think."

Okay, so bitchy _and _crazy. George would have to file that one away for later.

"Anyway, I can get her out. But you gotta do me a favor."

"I thought were _were _doing you a favor-"

"Shut it, Josie Geller." Sue turned her eyes back to Rube. "I want back in. AND I want Millie here to get my Cheerios back."

George looked up. "What the-?"

Rube stirred his coffee slowly, not evening bothering to look up as he shook his head. "You know I can't…"

"Oh, I know you can. You see…I still have that little _secret _in the back of my mind and in the back of a very secure locker hidden somewhere you will never find it."

Rube's spoon stopped. His eyes moved slowly up to meet those cold steely pupils. George would have never thought her boss would give into such a demand- hell, she didn't think Rube even HAD that kinda authority. …Did he?

"I'll see what I can do."

Sue smiled and sat back, his arm slipping around the back of the booth. Mason continued to cower. Daisy actually squealed and clapped (as George winced). "Oh, this will be so much fun! Just like old times."

"How do you even _know _her? You came on as a replacement!"

The former actress rolled her eyes. "Oh, come Georgia! Do you think reapers really stay in the same place throughout their whole lives?"

"I..uh…" Huh. George had never thought about it.

"Well, now that THAT'S settled, we better go." Sue got up. "C'mon, Toilet."

"Wait- me? Hey! How did you know about that?"

"What? Everyone knows how you bought it. And I'm not going to be responsible for making a student late. Now move!"

Shit. Things just kept getting better and better.


	7. Some chances just aren't worth taking

Chapter 6

_Some chances just aren't worth taking..._

Glee Club. Geoerge hated those words. Sue had made sure to get her back in time for the last couple classes of the day, and her infamous glee club tryouts.

"_Just remember, all you have to do is smile, wave your little jazz hands and Buttertop will be putty in your hands."_

"_Wait, Buttertop, tho is Buttertop?" George sat beside Sue in Rube's car as they drove back to school. She had NO idea how the woman had convinced Rube to lend her his car. Rube wouldn't even let Roxy drive his fucking car._

"_Buttertop is one of my many pet-names for one William Shuester- referred as such due to the greasy nature of his disgustingly curly hair." _

Walking through the door of her first glee-club rehearsal, George hesitated for a second and took everything in. This was NOT exactly what she was expecting. Weren't glee club kids supposed to be outcasts and geeks? Like the ones she saw the other day at lunch? Only half the club looked to be that. Rachel was the first to notice her, a tall...extremely tall, pretty hot guy stood next to her looking every bit the All American athlete. Next to him, Rachel kinda looked like a midget, but George knew pointing that out was probably not the best way to make friends. Instead, she smiled awkwardly and shifted where she stood as the over-enthusiastic 'captain' rushed over.

"THERE you are! I was looking for you at lunch. I saw Coach Sylvester call you into her office- she didn't try to waterboard you, did she?"

"Huh? N-no! Just um..orientation." George muttered. "Sorry, I went out for lunch." Rachel was already pulling her toward the group to introduce her. George just went with it for now, taking in the sight. Her eyes immediately landed on Puckerman.

_He_ was in here too? God really did have a fucked up sense of humor. Noah was sitting next to a very large girl who was glaring George down. In front of them, a group of three model-worthy girls, including a pretty spacy-looking blond and a Latina girl who was definitely giving the new girl the once over. The rest of the club seemed to made up of kids George already meant. Sort of. She recognized the tall guy as a kid in her math class. He was sleeping most of the time, and Rachel figured he was your typical good looking jock. He smiled at 'Millie', giving her a nod.

"Everyone, THIS is Millie Hart. She wants to audition for New Directions. Now, I know we usually do our auditions in the auditorium, however due to last week's little misfire with our stage pyrotechnics, Mr. S and I have decided it would be best to allow her to try out during our regular scheduled meeting."

Pyrotechnics? George was about to ask when someone else stepped into the room. Someone who George guessed was a teacher. A really, really, REALLY hot teacher.

"And THIS must be Millie Hart." He smiled an impossibly white smile and 'Millie' just stood frozen for a second before she smiled a little stupidly.

"Uh..hi.."

"Sorry I haven't introduced myself before. I'm Mr. Scheuster. Rachel's already told me all about you- you want to audition for glee club, right?" He was still smiling. Poor George took a second to respond, clearing her throat and nodding.

"Uh..yeah. Yeah! I was auditioning."

"Great! Just let Brad know what you want to sing and go for it." He stepped aside to give George the floor. At first, she had no idea who Brad was- then she realized somewhere in all the introductions, a red-headed man with a beard had come over and sat down at the piano in the middle of the room. Wait, where did he come from? For a second, she could have sword she felt something off of him. Something like she felt with Sue.

Nah. Shrugging it off she moved over to the man and Rachel got up from her chair and hurried over, speaking in a hushed voice. "Don't worry, I already gave Brad your sheet music."

"..Great..." The reaper smiled awkwardly as Rachel patted her hand and went back to sit next the tall, good looking football player. Quickly turning back to 'Brad', George quickly whispered. "I don't know the song." The piano player just stared. Clearly he didn't care. "...Look, can you play something easier..? Like uh..Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Old McDonald?"

It took the musician a moment to realize she wasn't kidding. When he realized that desperate look on her face was for real, Brad sighed and started to play a few notes.

And George stepped back awkwardly as she recognized the song. Okay, this wasn't so bad. Except it was. Crap, at least she knew it! Kinda...

"i..Somewhere..over the rainbow

Way up high..

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby/i"

George was trying to keep on tune, her voice cracking every other word. It was pretty obvious she was failing by the look on the rest of the club's faces.

"iSome..wheeeeeere over the rainbow

Skies are blue...

Something..something, la da da

something something else too...?"/i

George gave an awkward smile while the rest of the club stared in silence. Definitely the worst audition ever. Mr. S was the first to clap and get up, walking over and smiling. "Oookay, Millie! That was..different. Um, we'll let you know, alright?"

"Uh huh.." George just nodded strangely as the teacher walked her out of the door.

And just like that, she was kicked out of glee. Before she was ever officially in it.

"So that's it?"

"Yes."

"You're just going to sit here and mope and you're not even gonna go back?"

"No..." George Lass had been sitting at her usual seat in Der Wafflehause for almost 3 hours. Ever since she first left school after her failed performance. Across from her, the last person she wanted in her face about the whole fiasco.

Daisy Adair had found her fellow reaper stuck in this wasteland of despair a few minutes before. At first, she had contemplated just ignoring it and ordering her usual fruit salad and waiting for Rube to show up, but she just couldn't take the gloom anymore and she opened her big, over-loving mouth. Or that's how she saw it.

"Well, that isn't the Georgia Lass I know! The Georgia I know would get up, walk right out of here, and show those silly high school kids what real talent is!"

George glared up at Daisy for a second, wondering what her angle was. Really, why was this even bothering her? She didn't wanna join the stupid glee club in the first place. Except, it was just like the rest of her high school life and the constant rejection she'd been trying to avoid ever since. It was the reason she hadn't kept going in college. The reason her life- and her death, had ended up this way.

"Look, I don't see how it is your fucking business, Daisy, I-"

"Language, Georgia! That's not how a proper young high schooler behaves. Now...do you want in this club or not?" The blond was sitting up straight, her hands 'properly' on the table, smiling.

George really wanted to slap her.

"Not."

"Well, let's pretend you don't join this little club? Then what? You go back to that school tomorrow, face those kids down, and then somehow sneak into their rehearsal room this Friday for your reap unnoticed?"

"Maybe."

"OR...you can listen to me and not only get into that club, but become the most popular girl in your school while doing it."

George scowled. "I don't want to be popular."

"Of course you do, Georgia. Everyone wants to be popular. And if you just go along with my plan, you will be."

George didn't like this. This week was getting worse by the minute...

A/N: That's it for now! New chapter and all, yay! Please read and review and I shall update soon. ;)


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